


on suffering

by NeverEverFaceTheDark



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, collection of short fic, crosspost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverEverFaceTheDark/pseuds/NeverEverFaceTheDark
Summary: Not even a devil can hold one moment in her hands forever.





	1. Fall

she is devil, devil, devil, devil she thinks. She knows she was always meant for this because she never stops creating her own hells. She has rejected God’s salvation she has encaged Her - she is evil and she will never again deserve saving. She knows, that when her grip slips - time it is only a matter of time how typical - and God breaks free of her arms or rather into them and those golden golden eyes will stare right through her. Right through her barrier, her universe will crumble and she knows. She knows there is no being that could forgive her, not even Madoka. She knows that she should not be forgiven.

But for Madoka, breathing, laughing, talking, alive alive alive Madoka who loves her friends and family very much and who could not bear to be separated from them she will accept any judgement. She will protect this world, because it holds her. She will fight and when the time comes she will destroy this world because she knows.  
Not even a devil can hold one moment in her hands forever. Soft breath on her face and legs tangled and warm skin. She thinks I am devil devil devil devil and anticipates when she will be ended.

She thinks _don’t go, Madoka._


	2. Blind

The thought that she is forgetting something very important grows more persistent with the years. The only thing that can quench the feeling, smooth the headaches from her head, are Homura-chan’s arms around her. Her embraces still make her gasp, however gentle Homura-chan grips, like she can’t breathe. She fears she has become dependent on them nonetheless. She fears something is wrong with her. She knows something is wrong with Homura-chan. If there is anything that she is certain of, it is that Homura-chan is somehow wrong. And also the only thing left in her life that feels like stability.


	3. End

Madoka ties a familiar, long, red ribbon around your eyes and you’re crying you can’t help it. You lift a hand to her cheek - you just can’t help it. Her own locks around your wrist and you wait for it to be wrenched away but it never happens. Her nose bumps yours and her breath tastes like strawberry not yet stars. You feel red lines crawl beneath your skin and it hurts but not as much as the tears you catch on your fingertips. Does she know you’re sorry? You should step away, kneel and offer her your earring in your palm. Your hand falls to your side when she lets go but you stand still. Her warmth is like breath, you cling to it desperately even though you know you have chosen death by suffocation a long time ago. Her fingers dig softly into the back of your neck and you go you always go where she directs in the end. Her lips taste salty and yours like blood and you know this is goodbye. This is goodbye forever and she remains impossibly kind even though you have harmed her in ways unforgivable. The kiss lengthens and deepens and nothing has hurt so much before and nothing has been so blissful. She is beautiful. Your eyes are covered and they will never see the gentle contours of her face again but you do not have to see to know. She is beautiful, hair unbound and wispy pink but not yet endless, the colour of her eyes still undetermined. She is the creation of the universe about to happen. The red lines pop from your skin like veins when she steps away and web along your chest, arms down to your hands. You feel like screaming, but all you do is stand, palms open.

When Madoka carefully ties that second soft red chain around your wrists, your knees buckle slowly and for a moment there is the impression of being caught. Nothing more.


	4. Before

The first time she laid eyes upon Madoka in her goddess form, she was struck with awe and mad hope – and fear. She had been blinded, control wrenched so violently from her hands, thrown from nowhere to nowhere until her sight filled with the image of the earth burning in the hands of a terrible witch, believing that truly she must have ruined both Madoka and all of the world for the final time.  
-

In the many months that followed she wished so often for that promised small miracle to occur and for Madoka to come back to her, or at least for her to give the smallest sign. She was plagued by such terrible doubts – whether she had done the right thing, whether the years of torment that she remembered were real, whether she was at all sane, whether Madoka had even been re– but she could not let herself doubt that.

She, of all people knew how terrible it was to be forgotten. Madoka’s mother did not remember her, nor her father and not her friends. She was the only one, she alone. She would close her eyes after battle and picture Madoka as she had known her. A girl with the capacity for infinite kindness and courage, who chose a better world over her very own existence. And yet, sometimes all she wished was to lay down her weapons and hope the beautiful image of that glorious last form would return to her; her oath to protect the world for which Madoka had sacrificed everything forsaken.These treacherous thoughts haunted her, every moment of every day and night, and she could not bear it. She could not bear her own betrayal.  
-

The second time she opened her eyes slowly to that long awaited sight there was no awe and no fear. She felt only determination, not studded by white hot anger and black despair as before, but simply by the knowledge that she had failed and that she could now fix it – by committing a terrible sin. She felt the power within her, the love she held that had been her pain and suffering and despair and her one wish. There was such trust in the Goddess’ face as she descended, tangible, and as Homura reared up and took her wrists those golden eyes widened in innocent surprise and shocked concern.  
-

The third time she meets those golden eyes, she is on her knees and there is no fear, though she knows her destruction must be close. There is only awe, at the rediscovered beauty of Madoka so powerful, so great and brilliant. She reaches a hand out like a child would at the sun, unconvinced that she will touch such a wonderful warmth.

But her hand lands perfectly in Madoka’s own.


End file.
